Mysteries of Rathlin Academy: To the Lighthouse
by SBishoptheBard
Summary: Krystelle Gandy is your typical young British witch at Rathlin Academy of Arts (and Magic), a school as ancient as Hogwarts and with just as many secrets. As she starts her first year, she'll befriend a collection of familiar faces from the Adventures of Harriet Potter. Between all of them, they may yet discover what haunts the Ben Side Lighthouse, and why it's been acting out...
1. Chapter 1

The Potterverse setting is owned by JK Rowling

The Mysteries of Rathlin Academy

Year One:

To the Lighthouse

Chapter One:

Home

" _Daddy's home - daddy's home - to stay  
How I've waited for this moment  
To be by your side  
Your best friend wrote and told me  
You had teardrops in your eyes  
Daddy's home - daddy's home - to stay_"

-Daddy's Home, Shep and the Limelights, 1961

Little Fern Mantovani was running. She didn't think of where, or how far, or how out of breath she was. She didn't notice that she'd lost her slippers in the mud a few yards back, or even that she'd cut her foot on a rock. She barely noticed the heat and sting of her tears through the rain. As the distance between her and the Academy widened, and the storm came down harder, all the small child could think of was her Daddy, and her awful Mummy.

Fern's mind was racing. _How could she do this?_ _Daddy's good. He's funny and nice and he's always there when_ _Mummy's_ _working. What did he do wrong? Or is it me? Am I in trouble? Is this because I don't ever clean my room? She's gonna take me away just for that?_

Mummy and Daddy had been fighting when she slipped off to get on the big boat to school. Was that the reason they got a divorce? Maybe if she said she was sorry they'd get back together? It's not like they'd notice; Mummy was never around anyway. Fern couldn't even remember the last time she made it to her birthday party. Would Daddy be allowed to go to her next one? It was coming up in March. Daddy said he'd get her a wand for her ninth birthday. He said it was a little early but she was studying hard and she deserved it. Was she not going to be allowed a wand anymore; not ever?

 _What if that's why they're splitting up? Daddy's a wizard, I'm a witch, and Mummy's just a Muggle. What if she wants_ me _to be a Muggle like her? Yeah, that must be it. Must be_ _. Mummy's_ _just a dumb, stupid Muggle like they said at school. All Muggles are dumb and dirty and they just want to hurt us because we can do things they can't. They were right, we shouldn't even let them in at school! They were right they were —_

Suddenly Fern's fist hit a slab of stone. She halted, sliding hard into the wall, and fell backwards into the mud, grasping her poor hurt hand. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears and feel it in her head as she curled up and heaved heavily into her own belly, her clothes soaked through from the rain. She felt numb to everything, wanting nothing more than to just fall asleep right here and never ever wake up.

"Who approaches, Mistress Artemis?"

The voice was warm and flowery, like a lady in a commercial. Fern's ear perked up. Who said that?

"A child, Calla. Hurt and betrayed." This voice sounded older.

"She is lost." This voice sounded deep, strong, but still like a lady.

"Aye, Ariana," the old voice agreed, "and I suspect she will not be found."

"Not for a while yet, mistress." The warm one sounded sad.

She could hear them, all different voices, kind and soothing, like Professor Russell from the Big School, the one who tried to keep Mummy out of the dorms.

 _Mummy…_ _._

Suddenly, she started weeping again, reminded of why she was here.

"Ahhhh…'tis her parents, mistress. Or am I mistaken?"

"Her mother, I should think. This has been a long time coming."

"Ooo, can I be her new mother? No one would find her here."

"No, Calla. The castle is for us alone. People would take notice if we just took in any poor soul to come too close."

"Oh, can't she at least visit, Artemis? Look at her. She'll catch her death out here."

Just then, Fern looked up, wiping her eyes.

"Who...who's saying that?" she asked, feeling more curious than scared, "Where are you? Are you ghosts?"

She felt a hand on her shoulder, soft yet strong, and at this touch, her small form began to relax, her eyes dry. She felt a tender warmth spreading from her shoulder down through her whole body. She closed her eyes again, turned, and as if by instinct, embraced the woman behind her.

And just like that, for little Fern, all was right with Rathlin Island once more.

"Feeeeeeern!" Krystelle yelled from underneath Dr. Watkins' umbrella.

"Miss Mantovani!" yelled the Deputy Headmaster even louder.

"Fern! Come on, you'll get hurt!"

Krystelle held Dr. Watkins' electric torch steady as the two trumped through the storm under his umbrella, his cane clicking against the rocks as he limped on. She felt terrible for poor Fern, but she also kind of felt annoyed by her right now. It was well rotten that her parents were getting a divorce, but they said Mrs. Mantovani was going to make Fern a star; bring her into the family business in Paris. That wasn't so bad, was it?

"Oh God," Watkins gasped, stopping them in their tracks, "The castle."

"Castle?" said Krystelle, "You mean the ruins?"

"It's nothing," he said, shaking his head, "I was just thinking aloud. Come, step lightly Ms. Gandy, mind you don't slip."

The two continued on, Krystelle clutching her heavy moleskin robes closer as the wind picked up. Her nose crinkled as she faintly smelt the sea on the wind. Daddy had bought them for her two Christmases ago, when he got promoted at Flamel Enterprises. That was before she started going to Rathlin's primary school, and they were certainly coming in handy now. It had been a particularly cold and stormy February on the island, and here her friend was, lost in it in the middle of the night.

As they neared the edge of the academy village, and approached the ruins of Robert the Bruce's castle, they continued calling out to Fern. Now Krystelle was starting to get worried. There was a lot of rocks out this way, and a lot of steep hills down into the water. What if she fell? What if she really hurt herself?

"Hey!"

Dr. Watkins flashed his light forward. They both caught a glimpse of faded white and a flash of shining black hair, running towards them.

"Ms. Mantovani!"

Hastily, Dr. Watkins hobbled over the rocks and sludge, leaning on his cane the whole way, until he reached Fern in the middle. She was half-covered in mud, her clothes were all soaked through, and she was barefoot, but she was alright.

"You mustn't ever do that again, young lady," said Watkins,"I can't imagine what hardship you must be going through right now, but you could have really hurt yourself out here, or worse."

"I know, Professor," said Fern, glumly "And I'm sorry."

Krystelle smiled a little, and walked over to them.

"Hey," said Krystelle, "What was that for? We were—like—really worried about you."

"I'm sorry, Krissie," said Fern, hanging her head, "I freaked out. It's just... if you only knew... but it's ok. The pretty goat ladies; they helped a lot."

"Pretty what?"

"Oh!" Fern covered her mouth, looking up at Watkins, who was now looking both cross and surprised as he bit his lip under his moustache.

"Professor?" said Krystelle, puzzled.

"It's nothing," said Fern, quickly, "Let's just get back home."

And so the three of them, huddled under the large black umbrella, doubled back to the Academy, as Krystelle occasionally looked back at the old castle, unable to shake the sudden feeling that they were all being watched.

* * *

THREE YEARS LATER

"Give up!" Krystelle demanded, "We've got you surrounded, dark one! It's over for you and your evil master!" She called out over the log which was her cover, Wizard Cracker firmly in hand

"Never!" replied Dora. She spoke defiantly, raising her own Wizard Cracker to the sky from atop the treehouse.

The famous Auror-Detective Krystelle Gandy had been hot on the trail of one of You-Know-Who's last loyal Death Eaters; Dirty Dora the Dangerous. Finally, she'd tracked her down to her secret lair; the Tower of Grawshook. This was their final showdown. After all her adventures, her legacy would be decided here and now. Dirty Dora Flamel was coming with her, either in chains or in a body bag.

Just then, small red sparks shot up from behind every bush in the garden.

"What was that?"asked Krystelle, forcefully.

"Haha, there goes your backup, Auror-Detective!" said Dora,"My goblin minions have made short work of them. It's just you and me now, babe."

"You fiend!" said Krystelle, shaking her fist, "Their deaths will be avenged!"

Wasting no more time, the famous Krystelle Gandy hopped over the log and made a beeline straight for the treehouse.

"Take this, goody goody!"

Dirty Dora peeked her head out the window and popped her Cracker down at the young heroine, who zig-zagged and rolled forward just in time to avoid the blast of confettii and glitter. At last she was at the trunk of the tree, and the ladder to the Tower of Grawshook.

"Oh yeah?" said Dirty Dora, laughing from above, "Well let's see how you like this. Attack, my goblin minions!"

The infamous Death Eater then took a barrel from the side and dumped it down. A collection of several small stuffed goblin dolls sunk their claws into the Auror-Detective's sundress, and giving high-pitched squeaks as they meekly kicked and headbutted her with their cottony forms.

"Ack!" yelled Krystelle, trying not to laugh as the little things tickled her, "Back, servants of You-Know-Who! Back!"

After quickly dusting the dolls off of her, Krystelle pulled another Cracker from her dress front pocket, and continued upward.

When at last she found herself inside the fiend's layer, she held her Cracker forward with a flourish, and was confused momentarily when she found no one there. All she did find was a small stack of white cards in the dead center of the small wooden room. Krystelle picked up the stack, and turned it over.

 _3_

Krystelle threw the card on the ground.

 _2_

Krystelle apprehensively turned to the next card, discarding the old one again.

 _1_

Finally, she got to the last card.

 _Boom_

At once, the paper erupted in tiny sparks, the hot specks stinging Krystelle's bare feet, and some even shooting up her dress. Outside, over the sound of firecrackers, she heard someone dying of laughter on the lawn.

Shaking off the shock of it all, Krystelle ran straight back to the window, and saw Dora rolling back and forth on the grass, clutching her sides as she pointed and laughed.

"Once again, evil— hahaha— has triumphed! Thanks—hehe—to Dirty Dora!"

"Oh yeah?"

Krystelle immediately shot back down the ladder, ran to Dora, and dog-piled onto her.

"Haha, ow, hey!"

"Evil will never win so long as Auror-Detective Gandy is around!"

"Nuh-huh, you're dead, I just killed you!"

"No, no I'm not!"

They kept wrestling, tickling, and laughing like that, not knowing that both their fathers were looking on them from the sliding glass door of the Gandy home, softly giggling at their children's play.

After a mere few minutes, both girls finally lost their breath, and collapsed on their backs, side by side, looking up at the clear summer sky.

"Seriously, though," said Krystelle, "You did get me good."

"I know, right?"

"Only fair I guess. I fell for my own trick. But how did you get out of the treehouse so fast?"

"I set up another ladder in the back-window before you woke up this morning."

Krystelle laughed.

"Wow! You planned that far ahead?"

"Of course. Dirty Dora hasn't avoided capture this long for nothing!" she poked Krystelle's side playfully.

They sat in silence for a while like that, hand in hand in the grass, looking up at the clouds, silently wondering to themselves what they looked like.

Krystelle still couldn't believe it was really almost over. In a month or so, she and Dora were going to go off to two separate schools; she to Rathlin Academy, and Dora to bloody Hogwarts, the most famous school for witchcraft in all of Europe! No more would they be limited to kid magic like wizard crackers or toys. Their parents were going to buy them their own wands, so they could learn to do real, grown-up magic.

She should have been elated, and she supposed she was, but in that moment, with her best friend close beside her, she could only think about being sent off to the island all alone, for the first time. It was a lonely, blue feeling.

"Hey, Dora?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna really miss you."

"Awww," Dora rolled over and cuddled into Krystelle's shoulder, "I'm gonna miss you too, Krissie. It won't be so bad, though. Daddy'll make sure we don't fall out of touch! He's always bugging me to write people more."

"I know, it's just...I spend so much time on that bloody island. And this time Dad says I can stay for summer if I end up wanting to. So, it could be almost a year before we see each other again."

"Yeah…" Dora snuggled into her friend more, "Oh well,. It's still like a month off, right? We still have to go to Diagon Alley and get our stuff. Oh my gosh, we're gonna get our wands together! Our first wands! That's so mad!"

Krystelle smiled and nodded.

"Yeah…."

And again, the two young girls lay there with each other in silence, basking in the others company, until Daddy and Mr. Flamel called them in for lunch.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, another much more severe game of cat and mouse was underway, as it had been for the past year. A woman, tall and fit, with her blonde hair braided into two ponytails, sat at her desk by the light of several dozen candles, looking to the world like a woman on a mission, as her strong blue eyes scanned the case files before her over and over.

On the wall in front of her, a collage of newspaper clippings, both wizarding and Muggle, as well as at least a hundred photographs and documents, were pinned and connected to each other with lengths of red string. At the center of the myriad of evidence, was a blurred black-and-white photo of a silhouetted figure disappearing into a panicked crowd.

This was the photo that had made Janna personally insist on taking this case up, the picture of the man who'd taken over her life in more ways than one. It had been taken at JFK airport, just after the first attack, but an overly-curious young shutterbug. On the photo, a sticky note read:

 _The Man in White_

It had all started last year in New York City, with the attack on Juliet Cruisers airline. February 14th, 1990. On the day in question, one of the walkways from the plane to the terminal at JFK airport, was bombed through ostensibly Muggle means. Three prominent wizarding figures, including Fleur Eloise, the French ambassador to the International Confederation of Wizards, died in the attack, and several more were wounded.

 _The New York Phantom_

 **FOREIGN NATIONALS SLAIN IN AIRPORT BOMBING  
MUGGLE FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED **

At first the Muggle police sought to blame some terrorist organization for the crime. Upon closer inspection, however, it became evident that this was a witch or wizard who did it, and the Muggle Relations Division of the US Auror Office took over.

The bomb in question was indeed made from Muggle explosives, but the trigger was magical. A recreation of the scene after the fact also found a sizable portion of the underside of the walkway itself was missing. This seemed to suggest the explosives, while Muggle in nature, were transfigured out of a portion of the walkway. The evidence was building more and more that it was magical, not Muggle foul play to blame.

Janna and her partner, Evan Miller, were both assigned to the case. She kept copies of his notes safe and of course investigated alongside him. For a while the investigation went nowhere. They kept finding leads, and every lead got them only to one dead end after another. However, that changed last April. The _modus operandi_ had been the same, Muggle explosives set off by magical means, and a survivor had witnessed the Man in White fleeing the scene.

 **PROMINENT WIZARDING HUB ATTACKED  
MUGGLES TO BLAME? **

_April 1, 1991_

The attack had been on a place known simply as the Outpost, a combination post office and transport hub situated in North Dakota. Like much of the heartland, the wizarding populace of the state was very much isolated from the rest of the nation, much less the world. They thought it was just some prank when it first when dark, but when magical law enforcement arrived on the scene, to see the building engulfed in flames, they quickly discovered that was not the case. This Outpost was a keystone of wizarding society for most of the state, and someone blew it to hell, sending the whole place into a chaotic dumpster fire; no post, no Floo connection, no new Apparation licenses, and worst of all, no contact with the MACUSA.

Four days after taking the case…Evan Miller disappeared. He just didn't show up for work that morning. Janna ran to his house worried, only to find it a wreck, and him nowhere to be found. Janna was inconsolable for a week before she was able to get back to work. He only agreed to take the case because she'd begged him to. What's more, she loved Evan; they both came from Finland on the same boat, and solved dozens of cases together. He was like a little brother to her.

Since then, Janna had been working triple time, investigating JFK, the Outpost, _and_ Evan's disappearance. She reckoned she'd slept about twelve hours in the past four days alone. Coffee and potions alone kept her head upright, much less awake, and her deterioration had not gone unnoticed. The captain was insisting she take on another partner to take up night duty for her. Janna looked up at the lock. Eight o'clock PM. They were due here any minute.

Just then there was a knock at her door. It was gentle, yet Janna was so engrossed in her study that she was startled for a moment.

"Come in," the Auror called. There was a noticeable hint of a Scandinavian accent to her voice.

The door opened, and inside was her captain, Colin Nathan, with a girl no older than 18 in tow. The girl had short black hair and thick black-rimmed glasses, but a handsome face, by all accounts.

"Lieutenant Janna Cambridge," said Captain Nathan,, "May I introduce Sergeant Mary Visage? Sergeant Visage, Lieutenant Cambridge."

"Ah, yes," said Janna, standing to greet her, "It's a pleasure to meet you, dear."

"Now I meant what I said before," said the Captain, sternly, "She'll be taking over this case at night, so give her a quick brief and get yourself _home_ for God sakes."

"Aye, captain," said Janna, begrudgingly

"Alrighty then," said Nathan, smiling in relief, "Miss, I leave you in the lieutenant's good care. Good luck."

He then shook the girl's hand, and took his leave. Apprehensively, the young Mary Visage took a deep breath, then stood tall, wearing a smile of sudden confidence.

"Have a seat," said Janna.

"Thanks."

She plopped down on the nearby office chair, and rolled forward towards the desk.

"Gosh," gasped Mary, "this case is only a year old?"

"I've been working _very_ hard on it."

"I can believe it. Sorry to hear about Sergeant Miller by the way. All the guys down at the academy said he was—is, sorry, a great guy."

"Thank you," said Janna. She appreciated the gesture. It was more than some of the boys down here were willing to give.

"Right," said the young Auror, smiling, "So anything I should know before I get started?"

"Let's see...they said you're a pureblood. Do you know much about Juliet Cruisers?"

"Not really. I was still finishing training then, and I sort of phased out whenever Muggle stuff came up. Airplanes? Man, what do those guys think they're doing?"

"Well that's a mindset I hope you've broken away from. This _is_ 'Muggle Relations' after all."

"Right, of course I have."

"Well, Juliet Cruisers is essentially a specialized airline (that's what they call an airplane company), which introduces wizarding people to the Muggle world, for those who for one reason or another want or have to live in it. On the way they give them brief orientations and tutorials and the like."

"Ahhh ok, sounds simple enough. Crazy, but simple. Anything you can tell me about the suspect? This Man in White?"

"Well we discovered that this MO is not new, nor was the appearance of this man. He's been sighted at similar assassinations and war atrocities all across the wizarding world. Muggle explosives against wizarding targets. His identity, unknown; in the international auror community, he's known only as 'The Man in White'."

"Any other questions? Everything you need is right here. It's all labeled and dated, so you shouldn't have any trouble finding your way around it."

"One last question. Any leads as to his motivation?"

"Not much. The international attacks are completely erratic, often contradictory. He'll kill a politician that's for one thing, only to bomb the office of that politician's competition. Here in the states, however, there does seem to be one common thread to the two attacks."

"What's that?"

"First, all three of the victims at JFK were vocal supporters of President Shensuken's new civil rights bill. Second, North Dakota is mostly Libertarian, strongly Secessionist even. However, that's only in the more populated areas. The more rural areas, those with close regular contact with Native American reservations, are mostly Progressive. These are also the areas who depended on the Outpost the most."

"Ergo, there are probably more in those areas who support the president than oppose him."

"Precisely."

"So the attacks have been politically motivated?"

"It's possible. At any rate it's all we've got."

"Right. Well, thanks Lieutenant. I think I can take it from here. You go on ahead home."

"Thank you, dear. I'll see you in the morning…"

* * *

"Hey Dad, Mom's home!"

Holly Cambridge darted from her place at the dinner table, leaving a small whirlwind of homework in her wake, as she ran headlong into Mom's waiting arms at the door. She heard Dad laughing softly behind her.

"Hey, girl," he said softly, over his newspaper, "Saved you a plate for dinner, it's in the icebox"

"Thank you, love," said Mom, still holding Holly tight.

"New partner finally come today?" asked Holly, "You haven't come home this early in months."

"As a matter of fact, yes. She's a nice girl, from what I could see. It'll definitely help having another pair of eyes in the office. How about you, cub? How was your day?"

"Fantastic!" replied Holly, beaming "We won another game! You know what that means, right?"

"The Firebrands are making it to regionals?"

"Yeah!" said Holly, suddenly jumping in place, "They start next week, Friday! And if we win two of those, we make it to the Junior Cup! I know it's bad times right now over at work, but do you think you could _please_ come, Mom? Just this once?"

"Well...I did say I have a new partner, right? Perhaps I could—"

"Thank you thank you thank you!"

Holly hugged her Mom tighter. She couldn't remember the last time Mom had made it to one of her games, even though she always asked her about it, made sure she was doing well.

Holly had been playing soccer since was old enough to walk, but she only started training in the Texas Junior Cup when she turned eight. Mom took her to camp in Arizona for two summers, then this summer she had made it onto the Dallas Firebrands as a midfielder. Coach loved her; she had never let the ball get past her once since joining the team.

It was such a shame that Mom never got to see it, though. The Junior Cup had only been on for a month when Mom's partner disappeared. Holly had offered to help about a hundred times by now, but Mom said no.

"Now, enough of that," said Mom (though she still smiled), "Is your homework done?"

"Mostly," said Holly, nodding, "I finished History, Swedish, and Lilith helped with Potions. I just need to finish with Science. Dad and I are going through the chapter on atoms."

"Goodness, really?"

"Yeah, it's cool, but nothing as cool as the magic stuff. I don't _have_ to keep up these Muggle studies, do I? I'm in seventh grade, shouldn't I be getting ready for high school by now?"

"Ahhhh, well...it's funny you ask—"

A knock from behind her interrupted them.

"Oh, that'll be him then?" Dad asked.

"It must be!" said Mom, "Speak of the devil, huh?"

She turned back around. Holly was confused for a second. Who could be visiting now? It was almost ten o'clock.

"Janna!" a man's voice said, cheerfully.

"Sherrod," replied Mom, just as happy, "It's been too long!"

She hugged the man, and then let him in. He was tall and thin, with short, uncombed black hair with some stubble on his face, a black suit, and a grey handkerchief around his neck.

"Holly," said Mom, "This is Professor Howe. He's a teacher, well, more like a principal. He's the headmaster of a school in Northern Ireland."

"A pleasure to finally meet you, miss."

Professor Howe bowed, and offered her his hand, which she politely shook.

"Alright, Xavier?" asked Professor Howe, waving at Dad, "I've not seen you since, how long? Even longer than ol' Janna here. Word is you're a military man now?"

"Hah, yes and no," said Dad, looking shy, "I work for IWDS, that's—"

"The International Weapons Development and Sanctions Board," the professor interrupted Dad, "I am quite familiar with them. So research and development, then? Certainly a splendid use of your Ph.D, considering. I perceive that the company sent you to Fort Hood to advise the research project there. So it's only incidentally that you're working for the Muggle American army. Am I correct?"

"Um… yeah, exactly. How did you know? Actually... how'd you know _any_ of that?"

"It's what he does, love," said Mom, shrugging, "Don't get him started on how he figured it out, you'll not hear the end of it for a while yet."

"Ahh, your wife knows me too well. But enough chatter. I believe we have business with your daughter, no?"

"Me?" said Holly, startled.

Professor Howe smiled.

"Shall we move this conversation into the den? I believe Miss Holly will want to be sitting down for this."

"Sure," replied Dad, nodding, "Come along, love, we'll finish your chemistry in just a bit. I reckon you're gonna like what Professor Howe has to say."

The four of them all made their way from the entry hall and dining room, left through the kitchen to the spacious family living room. Professor Howe took a seat on the leather chair, while Holly and her parents sat opposite him on the couch. Holly felt curiously at ease with the professor, as he crossed his legs and sat in the chair as comfortably as if it had always been his favorite. He had a silly look in his eye, yet his face was mostly serious. Something about the professor just made her feel safer somehow.

"Well now, Miss Holly," said Professor Howe, "As I understand it, you've been playing football for a while now?"

Holly nodded enthusiastically.

Professor Howe laughed.

"It definitely sounds like you've quite a career under your belt. I'm curious, how would you like to advance in this even further?"

"What do you mean?" said Holly, "The National Youth Championship Series? Gosh, that would be neat! We'd have to win the cup first though, to move onto nationals."

"Indeed so. However, I was thinking a bit...higher up than any youth organization. Oh the youth league has done well right by you, as far as I can see, but how would you like to play in the big leagues? I'm talking, dear Holly, about FIFA."

"FIFA?" gasped Holly, "But I'm only twelve!"

"Perhaps for now. However, FIFA has been known to accept players out of junior leagues as young as teenagers."

"Ah, he's right, love," said Xavier, "They're letting them in younger and younger all the time. I hear they're looking at this one lass in Australia for their own national team, she's not even fourteen yet!"

"And as competitive as you are in the Junior Cup, you're prime scouting material if I ever saw it. And it just so happens that a brand new women's club has just been founded across the water. The Nottingham Forest LFC."

"Ohhh, I've heard of that! Mrs. Weston, Mom's friend, she's a talent scout for Team Nottingham! Wait…have you been planning this?"

Mom looked away, blushing a bit.

"Perhaps," she said with a giggle.

"Hence why I am here, my dear," the Professor said this with almost a sing-songy voice, like he'd been holding this in for a while. "Now once you've grown a bit, you'll already qualify for FIFA membership, but that still leaves some minor rules with Nottingham. It's in their charter that you must have been a resident of the United Kingdom for at least six months prior to trying out."

"Awww," said Holly, "But I haven't been back to Britain since I was five. So where does that leave me?"

"I am glad you asked!"

Professor Howe reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out an envelope, then handing it to Holly. The envelope was addressed to her, and on the back there was a symbol: a lion in the middle of a circled belt, pressed on an orange wax seal. She ripped it open, and pulled out a letter.

 _Dearest Holly Cambridge,_

 _You are cordially invited to embark on an adventure one part spiritual and one part magical, in your pursuit of an educated mind; to get to know the arts as the most powerful force in human life; to join a tradition of students and educators stretching back hundreds of years, on one of the most ancient and storied of the British Isles. Without further ado, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Rathlin Junior Academy of Arts And Magic._

Holly leapt out of her seat.

"Rathlin?!" she all but screamed, " _The_ Rathlin Academy?"

"That's right, cub," said Mom, smiling just as broadly, "If you choose to, you can go to the Junior Academy this year, finish up your contract with the Firebrands next summer, then the summer after that, you can try out for Team Nottingham!"

"I can?!"

"And, hehe, not to make any promises, but well... Terri, Mrs. Weston I mean, she really loves how you play."

Holly grabbed both of her parents by the necks in as tight a hug as her little arms could muster, as Dad requested in vain for her to calm down.

"Thank you, oh my god t _hank you!_ You're the best parents in the world!"

"Well don't thank us," said Mom humbly, "It was all Professor Howe's idea."

"Indeed," said Professor Howe, "Rathlin has had its eyes on you for a while, Miss Holly. And I just figured you had about had it with homeschool."

Holly turned around, sped around the coffee table, and stopped just short of jumping in his lap to hug him. Instead, she took a deep breath, and merely took his hand in her own and shook it furiously.

"Thank you Professor Howe, I won't let you down!"

* * *

Several Apparations and a wizarding boat ride across the Atlantic later, Professor Sherrod Howe had finally returned home, to his humble cottage in the Academy village by Bruce's castle. With his bag firmly in hand, and a great deal of stress built up in his back, aching for a hot bath, he swaggered on through the front door, to the elated holler of his wards, welcoming him home.

Of course, little Colm was the first to reach him, and the loudest in noticing him. Sherrod didn't know what he just broke or knocked over as Colm ran to give him a hug, and he didn't quite care. Returning home was always a joy for him.

"Oi Finn!" the lad all but shrieked, "Finn! Finnbar! Finn! He's home! Oi wanker, he's home! You hear, stupid? Sherrod's back!"

Sherrod cringed at Colm's choice of words, even if he knew the lad couldn't help himself. He was much more relived as he saw Colm's big brother turn round the corner to the door, considerably slower and calmer. At his side was a girl of the same age, slightly shorter. She'd stayed on the island enough as a village counselor that Sherrod recognized her immediately as Finn's best friend, Portia Figg.

"Ahhh, there he is!" Colm said, separating from Sherrod and crossing his arms, "With Fig Tree Girl, both as fat and ugly as ever. EEEEEK! 'I'm going slightly mad! I'm going slightly mad! It finally HAAAAA-pened.' EEEK!"

In a flash, Colm rushed on all fours up the stairs, turned right, smacked his head with a hard thud on the railing, and continued into his room unperturbed.

"If he persists like that, you absolutely have my permission to hit him," Sherrod assured.

"Ahhh, I'll hold you to that, sir," replied Finn, cocking his eyebrow, "Have a nice trip, Mr. Howe?"

"Indeed so, Mr. Negus," said Sherrod with a knowing wink, "Sorry about the boy's behavior, Miss Figg. I assure you I don't condone that."

Portia shrugged.

"S'allright, professor," Portia assured, "I'm a big girl, I can take it. I just hate how he treats Finn."

"Aw, my knight in shining armor," teased Finn, nudging her side, "Don't worry yourself, mate. That's just his annoying as feck way of saying he loves us…although I _will_ hit him for it, Howe, don't worry."

Sherrod laughed.

"I just got to hope he grows out of those mental episodes," Finn said, shaking his head, "Else he'll have a go with the wrong fellow someday, someone who won't go so easy on him."

"My worries exactly, sadly," Sherrod agreed.

"Anyway," said Finn, "You must be exhausted, eh? We'll go ahead and let you rest upstairs."

"Yeah, professor," said Miss Portia, "We got dinner all ready for ourselves earlier. You want us to bring you something up?"

"Thank you kindly, sir, and you madam" Sherrod tipped his hat, "I already ate as well, but thanks for the offer. And in all seriously, don't pay your brother any mind on my account. That's what sound-proof charms are for, eh?"

Sherrod smiled, bid them adieu, and continued up the stairs. Just before turning left to get to his own bedroom, Colm popped out of the broom closet, holding a toilet paper roll like a microphone.

"Is this the reeeeeal life, Sherrod? Or is this just faaaaantasy? Caught in a laaaandslide, no escape from reaaaaaality?"

"All of the above, matey," Sherrod chuckled, rolled his eyes, and moved past him.

 _At least he has good taste_.

Wasting no more time, he entered his quarters, locked the door behind him, charmed the room to keep sound both in and out, removed his coat and ascot, and sunk into his armchair by the fireplace.

He knew he was taking a risk, bringing the Cambridge girl here. A risk too few people knew about. Rathlin was no Hogwarts, and Sherrod was certainly no Albus Dumbledore. He knew he couldn't keep her as safe on the island as the castle, but this was a matter both Sherrod and Janna had agreed was not Albus' business, and so left him out of it for now.

 _Albus may be the most powerful wizard of the age_ , thought Sherrod, _But this…._

" _Accio_ prophecy," Sherrod incanted with a wave of his wand.

In a flash the rubbish on his desk across the room ruffled, and a small blue-dyed scroll flew through the air, into Sherrod's hand. The scroll was a copy of the report Sherrod had given to the Department of Mysteries about four years ago, concerning the vision of a very close acquaintance of his. Sherrod found it helped to read such things over again, not to remember them, but merely to contemplate them.

 _Not everyone has the luxury of a Pensieve_ , Sherrod thought, smirking.

Sherrod then unrolled the scroll wearily, and read through it for what had to've been the thousandth time.

 _The Man in White will sunder Merlin's Field, after starting the fire in the north._

 _A young protégé, a motherless daughter of two nations, is to make her first debut there, as her guardian, the Man in White's hunter, looks on helplessly. The protégé will be both a soldier and a victim of two wars to come; one against brothers, and one against a foe who has made himself nameless. The Man in White will aid in his unnatural return._

 _Relationships will fray and bend, while new alliances are forged which will last till the next age._

 _Progress will be halted as blood flows, on both sides of the sea, then flourish as the corpses grow cold._

 _Hope can be salvaged, but not before pagans are once again driven from Salem._

As Sherrod reread the words over and over again, he outstretched both hands. In each, a violin and bow materialized. Relishing their familiar texture and smell, he propped the violin under his chin, and began to strum a tune which Sherrod fancied as both haunting and comforting, a tune Sherrod had written himself long ago. As he played, he allowed himself to relax, and become lost in his endless thoughts and calculations.

It truly was good to be back home.

* * *

Fern Mandovani, Krystelle Gandy, and Portia Figg are owned by littlebityamelie

Dora Flamel, Finn and Colm Negus are owned by the-mind-of-kleinnak

Janna, Holly, and Xavier Cambridge are owned by EH-Indigo

Sherrod Howe and Jefferson Watkins are owned by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle


	2. Chapter 2

The Potterverse setting is owned by JK Rowling

Chapter Two:

The Rathlin Academy Ferry

" _I'm sailing away_

 _Set an open course for the virgin sea  
I've got to be free _

_Free to face the life that's ahead of me  
On board I'm the captain so climb aboard  
We'll search for tomorrow on every shore  
And I'll try oh Lord I'll try _

_To carry on"_

 _-_ Come Sail Away, Styx, 1977

Krystelle felt like Dora should be crying right now. She looked like she was just about to, and Krystelle certainly felt _sad_ enough to cry herself, but the tears wouldn't come.. Krystelle always knew Dora had some trouble expressing herself. Still, for some reason, she couldn't help but feel low that Dora wasn't crying right now, when this could be the last time they saw each other in a long time. She also felt sore guilty for even thinking that.

 _You_ know _she loves you, stupid,_ she though, wincing, _Why is it so important that she say it out loud? Or fall over sobbing over you? Especially if_ you _won't..._

As Mr. Flamel's limo pulled up in front of the Gandy house, Krystelle just pulled Dora as close and as hard as she could.

"Have a good time at Rathlin," said Dora, "Send me a souvenir."

Krystelle giggled softly.

"Like what?" she said.

"Aw, you know, I'm sure they have free soap and towels in the common rooms. 'Course I'd settle for your drawings. Maybe even a painting, then I can see if Daddy can convince Dumbledore into hanging it in Hogwarts."

"Heh, maybe."

Dora squeezed her, and Krystelle felt her face grow hot, butterflies filling her tummy.

"Love ya, Krissie."

That did it. Nothing could have made Krystelle happier than those two simple words coming from Dora's mouth. Krystelle's face and throat tightened as tears began to well in her eyes. She wanted so bad to say "love ya" back, after feeling so dejected before, but she just couldn't find the words, couldn't force them out of her mouth. All she could do was steal a quick kiss on Dora's cheek.

"...yeah," she said, smiling through her tears, "And yeah, I'll see about drawing you a sketch, every day if I have time. I'll get these ones to move, maybe even talk. It'll be wicked!"

"Too right it will," said Dora, giggling.

"And...you have a good time too. Don't let the other Slytherins push you around."

Dora laughed.

"What," she said, "You just assume they'll put me in Slytherin?"

"Come on, babe. Everyone _knows_ it's what you want. What _Hufflepuff_ would get up at five in the morning and hang a second ladder from a tree-house just to win a game?"

Dora laughed, then looked puzzlingly at the ground for a moment.

"...yeeeah, you're right," said Dora, shrugging, "What can I say? Dirty Dora must be rubbing off on me, right? I'll just be oozing _so_ much evil they'll have no choice but to stick me in Slytherin."

"Oh totally. They're gonna have to—"

"Miss Dora, Miss Dora!" Dora's elf Snickers shouted from inside the car, "We really must be going, mademoiselle, if we're to make it to the station in time!"

"'Ee ez right, Dora, darling," said Mr. Flamel. He sounded guilty as he held her shoulder.

"Right, yeah," replied Dora, drearily. She hugged Krystelle one last time.

"See you around, Krissie. Don't forget, one drawing a day!"

"You got it," said Krystelle, then hugged her back.

With that, Dora parted, and hopped in as the limo door opened on its own. When it closed, and Dora's father hopped in the driver's seat, Dora pressed her hand to the glass window, and looked out. The two girls waved each other goodbye until the limo turned the corner, out of sight.

"Right, love," said Dad from behind her, "Best get back inside and pack up your own cart, eh?"

Krystelle coughed as she and her parents were forced from the other end of the fireplace. She _hated_ traveling by Floo Powder, and couldn't wait to get to school so she could finally learn how to fly.

"There now," said Dad, dusting her off, "Not so bad, eh?"

"Yes so bad," replied Krystelle, frowning.

"Aw, you get used to it, baby. Just got to keep your mouth closed next time. Trust me, if you're get to be in my line of work, you'll have to get used to it."

They walked along the hallway of fireplaces out into the wharf, where the crowd was ever-growing down at the docks. Krystelle looked behind as they went. This time the Floo station was bewitched to looking like a Burger King. Last year it had been a VCR repair store.

"Well," said Krystelle, giggling, "Who said I was gonna _be_ in your line of work? I'm gonna be an artist, remember?"

"Oh right!" Dad replied, slapping his forehead, "Silly me."

"Now come on, Michaelangelo," Mum insisted, "The ferry will be here any minute."

Krystelle followed along, but promptly _ahem_ 'ed.

"Sorry, _Michaelangelo_? That pushover? Nuh uh, Mum, I'm Artemisia."

"Who?"

"Artemisia Gentileschi, remember?"

Both her parents looked at her blankly.

"The first woman ever accepted into the Accademia di Arte del Disegno in Florence? Gah, don't you pay attention to who your own daughter's heroes are?"

"Er, I just tend to fade out and think of quidditch once you get started on the Renaissance and such," said Dad, guiltily, "I try, it's just all those big Italian words and all."

"Dad, you speak three different languages besides English."

"And Italian is _not_ one of them."

He laughed, and Krystelle couldn't help but laugh back.

"My mistake, darling," said Mum, "Do send me a list when you can, then you can give me an exam on Christmas."

"Deal!" said Krystelle, looking victorious.

"Now you got your spending coin tucked all safe, darling?" asked Dad.

"Of course, Daddy," replied Krystelle.

"Now remember to try and keep to the budget I wrote out for you. I don't want you visiting this Christmas with a bunch of silly shite stuffing your bag."

"Oi Charlie, watch your language!" said Mum, crossly.

"Ah, sorry luv, just makin' small talk."

"Uh uh," Mum shook her head, and gestured for Dad to come closer with her finger.

He leaned in, and she whispered something in his ear.

"Oh, dear me! " said Dad. He bowed his head, trying to hide a smile.

"Well, maybe I'll be gracious," replied Mum, smiling slyly, "Just try and—" she shot a look at Krystelle, like she almost forgot she was there, then went back to whispering to Dad, who turned bright red, and started giggling like a moron.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Good boy," said Mum, then leaned in, stealing a quick kiss from him.

Krystelle gagged. She never understood her parents when they got like this.

"Oi, get a room you two, there are children here!"

Her parents both laughed, Dad growing redder. Krystelle didn't really know what any of that meant, but she'd heard Mrs. Flamel say it to them at a dinner party once when they were getting all weird. Whatever it meant, it seemed to resonate with them.

Krystelle shrugged at the thought. She supposed it was better to have them be gross and making googoo eyes at each other all the time than fighting all the time, like grandma and grandpa. If only she could figure out why it was that Dad liked being told what to do so much.

"So what classes will you be taking?" asked Mum.

"Dunno,"replied Krystelle, "The school picks for you when you're going into Junior Academy. Give us an idea of what the Academy proper will be like _next_ year."

"Oh, but you've been going there already for primary school. Don't you know already?"

"They only teach us boring Muggle stuff in primary. Math, reading, writing. And I heard even when you get there with a wand, you can't use magic to clean your dorm. It sucks."

"Oh pish posh. Krissie, you do chores at home with no magic all the time."

"Yeah but at Hogwarts they got house elves to do all that stuff!"

"Well it's cutting it close," said Mum, tapping her chin, "But if you'd rather go to Hogwarts and give Rathlin's fine art program a miss, I think your father could pull a few strings and—"

'No no no, I'm fine, I'm good, I'm cool."

Mum giggled, and tussled her hair lovingly, "Spoiled little brat."

"Oh you know you love me."

"We both do."

She planted a kiss on Krystelle's forehead. She cringed, but couldn't help but kinda liking it.

"Ah, look ladies," said Dad, "Here it comes!"

Sure enough, the crowd had begun cheering as a glint of white was coming into focus headed right this way, slowly eclipsing the thin line of Rathlin Island visible just where the sky met the water.

The ferry was huge, with a front tip at least a hundred feet high, white fiberglass with a wooden carved mermaid attached to it. She had a green tail and orange seashells on her chest.

 _How do they get those to stay on?_ Krystelle wondered, _And why do mermaids need boobies anyway? Do mermaids breastfeed? They're fish! Makes no sense. Maybe they'll teach us in school._

As the ferry turned, she saw Robert the Bruce's lion painted on the side, with a green belt around it in a circle, and the school's motto in cursive black letters. It was some Latin phrase Krystelle never paid much attention to.

Finally, the ferry made port, a small bridge being lowered out of the much smaller hind-end of the bridge. When the bridge made contact with the dock, a red carpet rolled out from nowhere, to greet all the eager students, more than ready to get aboard. No double the Muggle parents thought they put it on a machine or something to make it roll out. If they were still here, it meant their kids were keeping the truth a secret.

"Well...this is it," said Krystelle, suddenly feeling sad again.

She let go of her cart for a second, turned around and looked up at her Mum and Dad. They could be goofy and mushy sometimes, but she did love them a lot. This part, saying goodbye for the whole school term, was always the hardest. She'd learned from not only grandma and grandpa, but especially Fern, to not take her parents for granted.

Daddy worked hard on Mr. Flamel's board of directors, and was even next in line to be VP, but whenever he had to choose between work and his family, he always chose family. He didn't drink or party, and he didn't ever scream or lose his temper at her like grandpa did whenever she misbehaved. He always took time to talk her through things, even if she was being a brat. He didn't believe in "tough love" or any of that hokum. Just love.

For some reason, this made her think of Fern again, and her raggy, rotten hag mother.

Krystelle's own mother was farthest from her as she could imagine. She was tough and firm, never taking anyone's lumps, and never putting up with Krystelle when she wasn't minding her. But at the same time, Mum always treated Krystelle like she was a person she was trying to help succeed, not a project or a burden, someone that she _owed_ respect to no matter what. When Fern got taken away to "Paris", Fern wrote to Krystelle one last letter, saying it would be her last; that her mum didn't want her to be reminded of her "old life" and to do as she said; that she's her mother, and she deserves her respect.

Krystelle remembered those years ago when she showed the letter to Mum, and she remembered what Mum had told her.

"Krissie...remember something. If _anyone_ treats you as less than human, they do not deserve your respect, no matter who they are. 'She's my mother and she deserves my respect? She feeds me, clothes me, so I owe her this.' What kind of mindset is that to teach a little girl? To make her feel in debt just for existing? She's the one who got herself pregnant! Krissie, she's wrong. Being a family means being a team. We take care of you, body _and_ mind, because we love you, full stop."

Then they hugged and Krystelle said,

" _I_ respect you, Mummy, no matter what. I know I don't always show it but..."

"I know, darling. I work hard to deserve that. True love is unconditional, but respect has to be _earned_. Remember that too."

Suddenly Krystelle came back to the present, as she started crying again. Both her parents knelt down and embraced her, Dad starting to sniffle a little himself.

"I love you guys," said Krystelle, smiling, "I'll miss you so much."

"I love you too, darling" said Mum.

"Me too, Krissie-girl," said Dad, "Make sure to make lots of friends this term, and write us every day, ok baby?"

"Well let's not get carried away," Krystelle smirked.

They all chuckled a little at that.

"I'll write as often as I can, Papa," said Krystelle.

"Good…" he said. He then got up, and wiped his eyes.

"Well, off you go, love. We'll miss you."

"You too!"

With that, she took her cart in one hand, pulled her ticket out of her jacket pocket with the other, and hurriedly got in line for the ferry, waving goodbye to Mum and Dad every couple of minutes until finally she was onboard.

She wasted no time in wiggling her way through the crowd, eager to be the first one to the top deck. Nobody ever went up there when the ship was just setting sail, even though it had easily the best view. She never understood why that was, but she always made sure to get herself there at departure, both for the view and to avoid the crowds.

She leaned up against the white metal railing, trying to find Mum and Dad in the crowd, but failing. Before she had the chance, everyone was already on board and the ferry was moving. So, Krystelle just waved out to the whole crowd of parents, hoping her parents would see it. Glumly, after a while of that, she looked down at a group of Juniors Krystelle didn't recognize still waving, some leaning on each other and crying as the ferry began to turn and head away.

 _New kids_ , she thought to herself, _Gross._ She laughed, not really knowing why, then decided to make her way back downstairs, to her favorite spot on the back of the ferry, near the rudders. She knew there was no use in trying to find Fern.

 _Fern...god I miss when I could still her call her that._

There she sat, watching the mainland of Northern Ireland disappear as she sketched two mermaids in her notebook, one with boobies, one without, with a bunch of question marks over both their heads. Occasionally she took a break to take a drink from her water bottle, as she felt her stomach continued to rumble. Breakfast felt like forever ago, and she couldn't wait for the lunch cart to come.

"Oi, looks like someone _is_ sat back here!"

Krystelle turned her head. An older girl was peeking her head out of the back cabin door.

 _Hello, hello, hello,_ Krystelle thought, going red at the girl's smile.

She was tall and thin, but with a strong pair of shoulders, high cheekbones and large eyes of a heavy gray color. She had short blonde hair, parted in the front and tied in the back, with a blue ribbon tied around her neck, a white button-up blouse, and tan skirt.

"Uh...hi," said Krystelle, smiling nervously. She hated meeting new people, especially pretty ones.

"Hi," the girl replied with a chuckle, "What're you doing by yourself? There's lots of room in here."

"Um…crowds make me nervous," she spoke honestly.

"Oh, well, would you mind if my friend and I stood out on the rail? We just got word from the captain that we're free to move about, and we wanted some fresh air ourselves."

"Feel free."

Krystelle shrugged, and returned to her drawing.

"Top o' the morning," a boy's all-too-happy voice said.

Krystelle sighed, forced a smile back on her face, and looked up. She didn't find most boys as cute as most girls, but this kid came close. He was tall for his age, at least five feet, with wide shoulders, long, shaggy light brown hair, and clear pale skin, with rosy cheeks. More than anything, she was taken aback by his amazingly blue eyes, a shade of blue so pretty she didn't think she'd ever seen it before. She saw something gentle in these eyes, and in that smile, like he'd known her all her life.

"Name's Finnbar, Finnbar Negus. And this here's Portia Figg. What'd they call you, girl?"

She had a hard time understanding him. He spoke with an accent so thick she had to think for a minute to interpret what he said.

"Krystelle," she replied, "Krystelle Gandy."

"I don't think I've seen you before, Krystelle. You a transfer?"

"Uhh...no. Junior Academy."

"Get outta town! You look more closer to third year than anything."

"Heh...get that alot."

Krystelle was tall too, with prominent cheekbones which had always made her look older than she was.

"What'cha drawing?"

"Oh!" she held her notebook close, suddenly self-conscious, "Just-nothing just, something dumb for a friend."

"Ahh if it's for a friend, can't be that dumb. But it's ok, I won't ask. Ma always told me to respect a lady's privacy."

Krystelle felt herself blush. She'd never been called a lady before. Not unless it was when one of her parents reprimanded her in the manner of "Get down from that tree, young lady!"

"Well we won't bother you anymore," said Finnbar, with a bow, "Just wanted to watch the view is all."

"Uh, actually, you can sit here if you want."

"Aw, how sweet of you!" said Portia Figg, "Who knew you had a way with the ladies, Finn?"

"Haha, gross!"

The two took their seats beside Krystelle, and she suddenly felt a lot lighter than when she got aboard. It was a welcome change to feel part of a group. She was so used to being by herself at school, she tended to forget how nice it was to have...well she wouldn't call them friends yet. She just met them after all. Still, they were nice to her, and they were both older, so that had to count for something.

Still, it felt awkward to just sit there quietly. She felt she had to say something to them, especially when they were so nice already.

 _Dad did say you should make some more friends this year,_ she thought. _No time like the present._

"So, um, hey…."

 _Oh no. I forgot her name already. Oh no!_

"Um…." Krystelle just pointed, staring blankly.

"Portia." she giggled in reply

"Right, Portia! Sorry, I'm new to this."

"Aw, it's ok honey, I'm terrible with names too, don't be afraid to ask."

"Thanks," said Krystelle, smiling.

 _She called me honey…swoon!_

"So, Portia, what are you all about?"

"Oh, you know; dancing, music, flying my broom. My folks are broke, so I try to keep things simple, you know? Oh, I took on a job as cabin counselor this summer, off on the island. That was fun."

"Ahhh, I see," said Krystelle, listening intently, "Very cool. How old are you guys?"

"Thirteen, the both of us," replied Portia, "I'm planning on going into a dance major once I get through my exams, and Finn here's going into music."

 __"Ahhh, cool," said Krystelle, nodding, "What are your parents like?"

"Oh, my folks are alright," she replied, starting to smile again, "I'm half and half, you see. Dad's a choreographer, says I'm his muse," she said this proudly.

"Oh cool!"

 _Am I saying cool too much? Oh god, do I sound like an idiot? It's ok, relax, they probably don't notice. That's a lie they totally noticed, just don't do it again. Bugger, you've been quiet for too long, say something else!_

"So like, does he do plays, musicals and the like?"

"Oh definitely! It doesn't pay as much as you'd think, and it's hard to find work in it. When he does find it, he has to travel a lot, and I might not see him for months. It's not easy, but it's what he loves doing."

"And your Mum?"

"Oh, she's the Muggle in the family, a maid. Works for a big office building in London. She used to be a backup dancer on the West End, that's how she met dad. She took a nasty fall though, ruined her back, and that was that, you know?"

"Aw, that sucks."

"Yeah. Fun fact, my folks had four kids, and I'm the only witch or wizard out of any of them."

"Dang. Did you have to keep it a secret?"

"Of course not. It was tough for Mum, though. Dad couldn't tell her he was a wizard until after I was born, and I'm the second oldest. They split up for a while after that, but they got back together."

"Aw, that's good."

 _Good, good, keep it simple. The simpler you reply, the less room there is to bugger up._

"How about yourself?"

"Oh, I'm kinda in the middle. Dad's on the Board of Directors at Flamel Enterprises, but I'm not sure what he does. We're not rich, I don't think, but I got it pretty sweet."

"That's always good," said Portia.

"Sorry, was that bragging? I didn't mean it."

"Haha no no, you're fine, lass."

"And Finn, music major, huh?" asked Krystelle, "So you play?"

"Aye," he replied, grinning, "Guitar mostly, although I'm learning the piano too. Started this summer."

"Wow, two instruments? I bet your parents are really proud of you."

Both Portia and Finn got quiet then, and frowned. Finn looked almost like he'd just been slapped in the face, his eyes turning downward.

"What?" said Krystelle, now frowning herself.

"My parents…they're not around anymore," said Finn.

"Oh…" Krystelle's face went red, her throat tightened. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this bad. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's ok, alannah. Just yeah...touchy subject."

"Can I ask how they...actually nevermind."

"Aye, thanks," said Finn, nodding.

For a while they just sat there in silence, staring out at the water, Krystelle's face going beat red as she started sweating, even in the chilly breeze from off the sea. She couldn't be more embarrassed, and every time she tried to say something else, it just got caught in her through as a tiny squeak. So she just sat there smiling casually as she always did, almost certain that they could tell she was floundering.

"FIIINN!"

All three of their heads turned to the side as a huge, yet scrawny, figure sped out of the cabin and jumped into Finn's lap.

"Oi, give over!" he yelled.

The kid was panting, and talking so fast with Finn's same Irish accent that Krystelle had no clue what he was saying.

"OinawFideyrecumitagimeh!"

"Who's coming, yeh dolt?"

In a flash, three more boys, much shorter than the kid on Finn's lap, exited the corner as well, prompting the boy to climb up Finn, standing on his lap, much to Finn's protest, and then leap from the bench altogether with an over-the-shoulder roll, before running round the corner down the deck, with his pursuers still hot on his tail.

Krystelle looked at Finn totally flabbergasted.

"Heh, sorry alannah," he said, "That be Colm, my little brother, along with who I presume are the rest of his mates he brought with him from the Otherworld."

"Little?" said Krystelle, incredulously, "He looked almost as tall as you are."

"Aye, he got Da's height, I got Ma's. He'll be taller than me one day, I reckon. Sorry about the rumpus there. I like to say he's ten going on five."

"Ten years old? Woah, he still in primary?"

"Naw, he'll be eleven in about a week. He's going to Junior."

"What major does he want?"

"Singing. He bloody _loves_ singing, he does it whenever he's not talking or catching his breath."

"Aw, that sounds cute."

"Aye sure, when he's not keeping the whole bloody place up till the wee hours of the night with it." he sighed.

"Ah, I hear that. Well, not really. I'm an only child."

"Lucky!" both Portia and Finn said at the same time.

They both started laughing then, and Krystelle laughed along with them.

 _Ok, now we're getting somewhere._

"So," Krystelle continued, "Want to see my new wand?"

"Aw, sure honey!" Portia beamed, "I remember when I got mine."

Krystelle reached into her robes and pulled it out.

"Mahogany and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches even. Ollivander said it's the perfect kind of wand for transfiguration."

"Sweet!" said Portia, "Mine's _Spanish Oak_ and heartstring. I can't remember how long it is, though."

"How about you, Finn?" Krystelle asked.

"How bout me, what?"

"What kind of wand do you have?"

"Oh, hehe...the kind that doesn't exist."

"Huh?"

"I ain't a wizard, miss."

Krystelle gasped.

"Oh, hehe, sorry, I forget, they let Muggles into this place too." Her face went red again.

"Oh, aye."

"Just never actually spoken to one like this before. One of my bunkmates in primary, Ursula, she was a squib, but that's about as close as I've gotten."

"Ah well, here we are then. Don't worry, I've been hanging out with this one for years and I've not burned her at the stake yet. Fingers crossed I'll keep resisting, eh?"

Portia giggled, "Git."

So Krystelle, Portia and Finn kept on chatting as the boat sailed closer to Rathlin Island. For the most part, Krystelle just kept asking Finn questions about what being a Muggle was like, while he occasionally fought off Colm, who kept jumping into his lap and jumping out every time he and his friends completed a lap around the deck.

Just as the sun was starting to set, and the deck lamps magically flickered to life, the snack cart exited the cabin and turned to the three.

"Anything off the trolley?" asked the old fellow pushing it.

"You like pumpkin juice?" asked Finn to Krystelle, who nodded yes, "Three pumpkin juices, two cauldron cakes, and anything sweet for you, Krystelle?"

Krystelle blushed yet again. If he was offering, she knew what she'd love right about now, but she was always self-conscious about asking for it.

"Have, um...have you got cockroach clusters?" she asked, meekly.

"Certainly, love!" said the old man, "With or without peanut butter?."

"With, definitely" said Krystelle, smiling, "Two please."

The trolleyman handed them all their snacks and drinks, then went on his way without waiting to be paid.

"I got family what works for the school," Finn explained, "Colm and I get our snacks on the house."

"Nice," Krystelle smiled, "And...thanks, guys, for not laughing."

"What, the cockroach clusters?"

"Yeah. They called me a freak in primary for liking them. Even Mum and Dad won't buy them, says they'll make me sick, but that's a load. They're delicious! You can't even taste the bug part! Just chocolate, crunchy goodness."

Finn raised an eyebrow.

"What's the point o' the roach, then?"

Portia elbowed him in the shoulder.

"Don't fret, darling we don't judge," said Portia, "You be true to yourself and what you like, and forget what some smart prat has to say about it."

"Thanks...that's cool of you to say."

"Don't mention it, sis."

She winked, and Krystelle's heart fluttered.

"Actually," Finn piped in, "I think I may be brave enough to try a bite off one of those, if'n yer offering?"

Just as night began to fall on the Rathlin Ferry, Church's Bay (the Muggle settlement on the island) came more and more into focus, with only scant light sources illuminating the docks, contrasting greatly with the lights of the Academy even further on the land's horizon, stretching from just above the town, all the rest of the way of that right side of the island. Krystelle figured the Summer Camp kids in the Academy Village would just now be getting ready for the start-of-year dinner, along with the primary kids.

By this time, all the kids who weren't already in their school uniforms had changed into them. Krystelle was dolled up in her white shirt and green tie, under a dark orange v-neck sweater, with matching skirt and knee-high stockings. Portia wore the uniform of the College of Dance; a knee-length silver dress, short-brimmed white sun hat with violet band, and mary-jane shoes with pantyhose.

Colm wore a similar uniform as Krystelle, but with a green-and-orange plaid kilt which went down past his knees, in place of a skirt. Finn wore the College of Music's uniform: a dark blue blazer, black striped shirt, and blue slacks with patches on the knees with his house colors, one orange and one dark blue, all topped with a white-and-grey checkered peaky cap.

As Krystelle, Portia, Finn, and Colm (his hand being held by his brother), departed the ferry, they heard the sound of sleigh bells over the chatter of the crowd.

"Juniors this way, now!" said a scruffy, throaty man, "First year academy this way now!"

The crowd began to thin and dispersed on the shoreline, and over on the stone-paved road stood a little stout man, with a large bald stop on top of his head, but long hair stretching to the middle of his back, and a long dirty-blonde beard. He wore a flannel shirt over his official academy robes, and in his hand, large relative to the rest of his body, he continued to jingle a fistfull of bells on a leather strap. Krystelle recognized him as the dwarfish academy quidditch coach, but couldn't remember his name until Finn called out.

"Evening, Ric!" said Finn, waving.

"Eve— oi, you!" he turned to his left, "Quit that shoving! Oh er, hey Finn. Off to the carriages with yeh then?"

"I suppose so. Oi, Colm?"

"Yeah, stupid?" replied Colm, smiling broadly and dumbly.

"You'll be well-behaved if I leave you alone?"

"Nope!"

"Colm…."

'Not gonna happen, mate, sorry!"

"Well will you commit no violence against anyone on the bus at least?"

"I'm gonna _kill_ _everyone_ on that bus, mate, just you wait! Mwahahaha!"

"Colm I's serious, now."

"So am I!"

"Oi, Colm!" Ric butted in, "You mind your brother, else I'm blocking yeh from the track team again!"

"Nooooooo!" Colm screeched. Krystelle had to cover hear ears because he sounded exactly like nails on a chalkboard, the sound clawing through his vocal cords.

"I'll be goooooooood!" yelled Colm, then pulled away from Finn's hand.

He ran faster than Krystelle had ever seen anyone run, past the little person, up the hill road, and turned a corner around the large white school bus Krystelle only just noticed.

"It's ok, Ric," Finn insisted, "He knows the way. Plus he knows that's the way to get himself to behave, burn all t'energy outta 'im."

"Ah, well met," said Ric, "Off to the carriages with yeh then. You too, Ms. Figg."

"Right, coach!" Portia turned to Krystelle, smirking, "We best split up before Gimli over there busts us."

"I heard that!"

"Gotta run!"

Finn turned one last time.

"This'll be goodbye then, for now," he said, glumly, "Do I get a cheeky little hug, alannah?"

"Um...sure," said Krystelle, with a shrug.

Finn then took her in his huge arms, squeezed her tight, and picked her up.

"Oof!" she grunted, "Errm, Finn?"

"Purdy kitty, I will love her and pet her and call her mine."

He sounded like he was doing an impersonation of an elephant. After holding her for a second longer, he set her down.

"Heh, sorry, couldn't resist."

Krystelle merely giggled, feeling struck dead all of a sudden as he walked away. Now very much red in the face, her her stomach was rumbling fierce. The cockroach clusters ended up only making her hungrier. Without hesitation, she followed the dwarf's guidance up the village road to the line of buses at the top of the hill.

Awkwardly, Krystelle shuffled in shoulder-to-shoulder with the other Juniors, trying hard to keep her head down lest she have to talk to or recognize anyone from primary. She would wait until they got to the dining hall and get back together with Fern, and that would be it. No more new, strange kids.

She took her seat and already began to kick herself for the thought. That older kid had been a little weird, but he was also really nice. Maybe he'd give him another try some other time. It was at that point she shook back to reality, as she only just realized the bus driver was listing off the safety speech. He was striking in his purple v-neck shirt and large-lapeled black leather jacket.

"- at all times!" he called out, "And remember, if you get motion sickness, there's a sick bag in the pocket in front of you. Once we get to the caves, please exit in single file like you came in, and do not scurry. We needn't another mess like last term, though...right, that was funny how-well I'll not get started. Now are there any questions?"

Of course there were none.

"Then we'll be off. Ladies and gentlemen, please have a _fantastic_ school term!"

With that, the driver jumped down into the driver's seat, buckled his seatbelt, and began turning a series of knobs and pressing buttons which made an assortment of strange honks and beeps. The bus then burst forward suddenly, then stopped. After the bus driver turned the key harshly a few times more, the engine burst to life again, and they all began to follow the rest of the line of busses already in motion up the road.

They continued onward for only about ten or twenty minutes, Krystelle occasionally looking back down at her sketchbook, until finally the famed academy in all its glory came into focus on the narrow horizon. The central stone Central Hall stood prominently amidst the school's five large teaching halls, all of which were centered around three old, dead trees. She knew well that the village and primary school would be just off to the right of the Great Hall, behind all the buildings.

Off beyond the Academy, stood tall a tower painted the school colors, in a spiral runnin up the wall, and a becon atop. The Western Lighthouse was flashing brightly a solid orange hue against the violet twilight sky. Immediately, Krystelle turned to the next page in her sketchbook and wrote the title for the _second_ drawing she'd send to Dora:

 _To the Lighthouse_

"Hang on, folks!"

Krystelle looked back up, and immediately felt a sinking feeling in her tummy, like something was pushing up on her bottom. She looked out the window and immediately saw why. The bus was lifting off the smooth road, and flying up, off into the evening sky. It was finally happening!

Her heart soared a little, though she knew she wouldn't be showing it as the entire cabin filled with gasps and ahhs, while she remained silent and relaxed in the face. While the boy sitting next to her turned around to speak to a friend, she just leaned her chin against he cheek, and took in the aerial view of the school grounds as they looped around it; gorgeous lawns and topiaries in the quad around the dead trees, the lights of dozens of stained-glass windows in Central, the teeny dots of the village stretching the length of the island from the Academy all the way to Robert's Castle, still ruined down the hill of rock.

 _Been a while since we stopped her down there,_ Krystelle thought to herself.

Just then, she felt her back hit the seat behind her as the bus began to speed up over the water, and higher up into the autumn clouds. They continued, following the line of buses in front of them until finally, the bus in front of them shot straight upward.

"Here comes my favorite part, boys and girls!"

The whole cabin shrieked and Krystelle fumbled to grab hold of her sketchbook as she felt her own hair rise, and blood rush to her head, for but a moment, before finally returning to normal. She then hit the side of the bus a little harder than comfortable as the line turned sharply right and downward. From out of the front window, a huge cave-no two!- came into focus through the clouds. One to the left dark and foreboding, the other man-carved into the cliffside, resembling a simple garage from a distance.

 _Bugger me,_ Krystelle thought to myself, _Nice trick, only I wish I'd paid attention during the safety bit. Would have been nice to expect a loop-de-loop._

The bus slowed to a crawl as it began docking into the garage. The cabin shook and jerked back and forth as the wheels made contact with the ground once more. Krystelle looked back and forth around the bus at how amazed and breathless most of the kids were. She couldn't help but feel down at this sight.

 _I wish I could be that bloody enthusiastic._

She couldn't dwell on it, though. Immediately the others got up from their seats and shuffled back into single file, ready to exit the bus. The doors hissed as they opened, and immediately started the line moving along. Krystelle saw the driver waving goodbye and saying nice things to the students as they were leaving, going almost entirely ignored. She frowned at this.

"Thanks mister," she said as she left, "Great job with the loop-de-loop!"

"Much obliged, miss!" he replied, smiling broadly with pure white teeth.

Now smiling again, Krystelle held her sketchbook tightly to her chest, and joined the others.

Fern Mandovani, the Gandies, and Portia Figg are owned by littlebityamelie

Dora Flamel, Finn and Colm Negus are owned by the-mind-of-kleinnak


End file.
